One Year
by purplebowties
Summary: Six glimpses into Chuck's life, following his journey through his first year as a father.
1. September 20th, 2014

This collection of one-shots has been written as a Christmas gift to my dear Daphne. Her prompt was quite specific: she asked for a fanfiction portraying Chuck and Henry's relationship during the first months of the youngest Bass' life. I chose to follow the course of a year through six one-shots of different length. Reading, you'll realize that they focus mainly on Chuck and his feelings, even when seen through other characters' eyes. As I said this was a precise request, other than something that I really wanted to explore. I didn't mean to underestimate motherhood and, consequentially, Blair's role in her son's life; it simply isn't the main topic of these pieces.

I also must say that I don't have a deep knowledge of babies, which is why the fanfiction required a lot of researches. I tried to be as truthful as possible, reading up on each stage of babies' growth and babies care as much as possible to be able to give a more detailed picture. Still, I might not have been perfectly accurate and I apologize in advance about possible inexactitudes. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

* * *

 _September 20th, 2014_

The surprising, clear sound of his son crying for the first time shook Chuck from the state of absolute fear he had been in till then.

The eight and an half hours that Blair had spent in labor had been the longest and the most terrifying of his life. Although his hands had never left his wife, strong and comforting in their hold despite the terror drying his mouth, the so called miracle of birth had caught him unprepared and he had found himself helpless in front of the inevitable agony he had seen her struggling with. To his shocked, wide open eyes, birth had looked frightening and painful rather than extraordinary.

Up to this moment, at least. Now that their baby had come to the world, wrinkly and screaming, his healthy, strong lungs taking their first breaths of life, Chuck finally understood the meaning of the word miracle; he comprehended it fully and yet he felt absolutely overwhelmed by it, unable to distinguish and give a name to any of the emotions swirling in his chest.

He watched, dazed, as the nurse laid their newborn against Blair's breast. The woman kindly congratulated them, but Chuck wasn't listening. The spontaneity with which his wife had taken their son and carefully cradled him in her arms, her movements delicate but confident as if she had done it hundreds of times before, had left him stunned.

He couldn't take his eyes off of them, his lips slightly parted in amazement in front of the precious moment he was witnessing. Blair beamed through the happy tears streaming down her face and started counting the baby's fingers, one by one, murmuring words that Chuck couldn't quite catch.

"Chuck, come here," she called for him after a minute, her voice shaky from exhaustion and her own overcoming emotion. "Come look at him, come meet him."

But Chuck couldn't move. He stood there immobile, a step away from the edge of Blair's bed, unable to do anything if not becoming aware of the fact that the frantic racing of his heart was pure, paralyzing fear. He was scared of touching his tiny, perfect and completely innocent son, scared to hurt him – and not just with an abrupt movement, but to hurt him, with his inadequacy, in a deeper and irreparable way.

He had no idea how to be a father and how to love a baby, an uncorrupted life that depended on him and that he was responsible for. He had never experienced the instinctive, unconditional love of a parent; he had known disdain and hatred instead, abandon or, at best, indifference. What if he was too broken to teach his son about affection and acceptance and too damaged to make him see the beauty and the bliss of life?

"Chuck," as if she had been able to read his thoughts, Blair called him again. "Please, get closer," she encouraged him, her tone now calmer and soft, as she reached out with her hand to grab his. She squeezed it in a reassuring way. "You can touch him, I promise you won't hurt him."

Although weak, her gentle grasp was enough to make him glance up at her. She was smiling warmly at him, her eyes still glistening with tears. Even if she was pale and worn out, her face was glowing with the most blatant and delirious happiness, and Chuck thought that she had never looked more beautiful or stronger to his eyes.

It was a constant in his life, the way her firm, enduring courage and her empathy managed to stop him from drowning in his inner torturing; she had always had the power to bring him back to reality, to catch him when he was about to fall – metaphorically and not. He just had to trust her and follow her touch.

And so he did. Chuck took a step towards the bed and, cautiously, he sat down next to her. He looked down at their son again and held his breath. As tiny and defenseless as he was, the newborn seemed to be comfortable, safe in his mother's careful and expert embrace, and Chuck was still too afraid to ruin that beautifully natural contact to touch him.

Again, it was Blair who slowly guided his hand closer to the baby's face. "He's your son, Chuck," she told him when he stopped her right before his fingers could brush against their son's cheek. "He needs to know his dad."

Chuck suddenly raised his eyes on his wife, gripped by fear. "What if I can't?" he managed to ask her hoarsely, swallowing the tight lump in his throat with difficulty. _Can't be a good father, can't love him enough, can't protect him and can't give him what he needs_ ; his vague question gave voice to these and many other fears – and none of them seemed to have an easy resolution.

Yet, in the instant Blair's smile widened and she lightly shook her head, Chuck understood that, somehow, she recognized all of his insecurities and knew how to silence them. She had always known.

"Just touch him," she said, her voice sweet but secure.

In her arms the newborn had started to fuss, forcing Chuck to look back at him. He blinked. Maybe it was that simple; maybe he was just supposed to follow his instinct and the way he was longing to meet his son, his hand shaking in Blair's heartening hold as he stared at him, unable to avert his gaze.

Chuck leaned in and, taking a deep breath, he finally allowed himself to run a trembling finger down the baby's cheek. It was then it hit him, the deepest joy and the most powerful, completely absorbing, unconditional love he had ever felt. It was immediate, pure, and, regardless of his lacking skills when it came to recognizing and accepting feelings, he acknowledged it straightaway, as he lightly stroked his son's face and then took his minute hand in his.

It was real. He had a son, a small, unarmed human being to protect at the peak of his possibilities; a baby who wouldn't have had to struggle to learn how to love and being loved in return, who would have lived an uncomplicated, happy existence. The warmth and the support of a doting family would have made him strong and confident enough to face the word with a light heart and the certainty that he was always safe and never truly lonely, that he was special, essential to someone – to a father and a mother who treasured him and cared for him.

" _Henry_ ," Chuck uttered in a shaky whisper, a simple word that summed up his thoughts and hopes. Tears filled his eyes and, unashamed, he did nothing to repress them, letting them slip free down his cheeks instead.

It wasn't the first time they discussed this name; they both liked it, but, up to this moment, Henry had been simply one of the options they had come up with. Now, though, Chuck felt clearly that it was the name he wanted his son to have. It sounded like a promise, a symbol of the life he wanted to give him.

He turned his head to look at Blair and he was relieved to see her nodding. She hadn't stopped smiling at him. "It really fits him," she commented, squeezing his hand once more to let him know that she had understood his reasons. "It's a name for a prince; Henry Charles Bass. It's regal."

Chuck, full of unspeakable gratitude, smiled back at her. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and ducked his head, placing a kiss on her temple, his hand still tentatively searching Henry's cheeks and forehead. "I love you," he whispered in her ear, taking the chance to breath her in, "I love you both so much."

"I love you too," Blair guided her hand to his face, cupping it and wiping his tears away with her thumb. Their eyes met for a brief moment when he laid his forehead against hers, but soon both of their gazes were drawn again by their baby boy. "He's perfect, Chuck," she spoke through a thin, teary giggle.

Chuck grinned. "Perfect," he echoed his wife. He bent forward and, gently, he kissed Henry's forehead for the first time – the first of many, he promised himself as his lips skimmed over the soft skin.

He realized in that moment that his life had changed forever. He wasn't just someone's husband anymore; he was also – and most importantly – someone's father, a fundamental part of the family they had built. He had a beautiful wife and a precious to take care of, and, embracing them, he didn't feel frightened by the responsibility of being so indispensable, but complete and full of pride.

Fear would have come back (just a minute later, an excessively alarmed Chuck would have followed the nurse as she brought Henry to be weighted and cleaned up, scared at the thought of leaving him in incapable hands – hands that weren't his or Blair's), but that was natural. It only meant he was aware that he had something lose – everything, actually, because he knew his family was his whole world.

For now, however, it was forgotten. All he could feel was fulfillment and overwhelming joy.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **[1]** About the date I picked for Henry's birth: I am one of those who think that Henry was 3 years old in the flash-forward of the last episode. I am also convinced that Chuck and Blair waited an year after their wedding before trying to expand their family. In my head-canon, Blair was pregnant by the end of December 2013.

 **[2]** My opinion on why Chuck and Blair decided to name their son Henry is slightly different from the one most of the fandom has. While most of Chair shippers think it about Chuck being a better man, I think it's more about Henry having the possibility to live a life his father couldn't live, free from the struggles and the pain that inevitably made Chuck who he is.

 **[3]** English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

 **[4]** A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic.


	2. October 14th, 2014

_October 14th, 2014_

Chuck closed the front door behind him and turned, taking in the impeccably tidy and elegantly furnished foyer of his townhouse. It was surprisingly silent, he noticed, heaving a long sigh of relief.

Over the past twenty-one days, ever since Blair and Henry had been discharged from the hospital and allowed to go home, their place had been everything but quiet; there was always someone around the house gushing over the baby. Blair's parents, who were staying in New York to be close to their daughter and first grandson, spent most of their days there, Serena and Nate were constantly coming and going and Lily, even if a little more discretely, did the very same. Even Jack had gotten into the habit of showing up unannounced to see the " _Bass' offspring_ " – and Blair hated that expression to the point that she'd glare at an innocent and powerless Chuck every time his uncle called their son like that.

Chuck had mixed feelings about this situation. On one hand he was more than happy to know that Henry was surrounded by a large, caring family and he was truly grateful for the warm affection his son was receiving. On the other hand, though, he couldn't help but feeling jealous and somewhat selfish; he loved their extended family, but there were moments when he felt like they were invading his privacy. He was often caught by the need to keep his wife and his baby for himself, to protect the intimacy of their home from intruders.

Chuck walked to the hall closet and opened it to put away the light trench he had worn to face the humidity of that rainy October day, before crossing the softly illuminated room to the hardwood staircase. Contrary to what he was used to do whenever he got home, he didn't call Blair or any of the staff members, worried that the noise could have woken a possibly sleeping Henry.

It was Monkey who came to welcome him; he toddled down the stairs towards him, wagging his tail with enthusiasm. Chuck, who was already halfway to the second floor, stopped and waited for the dog to reach him. "Good boy, Monkey," he greeted him, slightly bending forward to stroke his head. "Where's Blair, uh?" he then asked in a whisper, smiling as Monkey smelled and licked his hand. "Is she upstairs with Henry?"

Only part of the lights of the large formal living room, which Chuck could glimpse from the step where he was standing, were on. He figured that his wife and son were either in the master bedroom or in the nursery and found a confirmation to his assumptions when Monkey whimpered in response to his question and run back to the second floor, from where he had arrived, before rapidly taking the stairs to the third. Chuck, sighing tiredly in front of all the steps he still had to climb, followed him.

Monkey stopped in front of Chuck and Blair's bedroom door and sat down, patiently waiting for his loved but slower master to make his way through the long hallway. The dog let out another happy sound when Chuck finally reached him, showing that he was as excited to enter as the man clearly was.

After Henry's birth Chuck had worked mainly from home, to entirely dedicate himself to his wife and son. With a full staff, a baby nurse and Dorota (not to mention their overly present relatives), Blair had plenty of help and there was no reason for him not to go the office, but the idea of leaving the house and therefore his family held him back. It felt wrong, forced and in some ways even frightening.

His tenacious resistance had lasted till last night, when Blair had finally decided to face the topic. She had entered his home office, where he was looking over some documents while enjoying his nightly glass of single malt, and sat on one of the two large dark lather armchairs in front of his desk. She had then crossed her legs and assumed that cautious yet resolute pose she used when she needed to talk to him about some delicate matter. Chuck, understanding her intentions, had closed the file he was holding and set the papers aside with a sigh, allowing her to take his hand in hers on the black marble tabletop and lace their fingers together.

She had spoken about how she knew that he secretly missed his routine and, clutching his hand tighter, she had reminded him that both she and Henry were safe, perfectly taken care of and that, coming back home, he would have found them there, waiting for him. Chuck had taken a long sip of his scotch, giving himself some seconds to stall and let her words sink in before nodding.

His first day back at Bass Industries after three weeks off, though, hadn't been exactly productive. While he usually enjoyed his job, today the few hours he had been away from home had felt like an eternity; he had ended up spending a good part of his time texting Blair to make sure everything was okay and asking her to send pictures of their newborn son. He had missed them both terribly and now he couldn't wait to see them.

Blair had left the door half closed and the warm light coming from inside the room drew a thin yellow stripe on the Persian Qum silk carpet of the partially dark corridor. Smiling down at Monkey, Chuck rubbed his ears once more before silently pushing the door open.

His eyes immediately found Blair, who was sitting crossed legs in the middle of the bed, on the plush crimson red comforter. She had Henry nestled in her arms and she was cradling him gently, humming some lullaby Chuck didn't know. She was completely absorbed by the baby: she hadn't even noticed Monkey, who had jumped on the bed straightaway and curled up on his favorite spot at the bottom of the mattress. Chuck took advantage of the fact that she seemed to be unaware of his presence to contemplate the scene. He loved watching her with their son; he was stunned by the way she was so effortlessly maternal and always in tune with the baby.

After some seconds Chuck lightly knocked on the dark wood, a soft, slight sound that managed to make Blair glance up. A wide grin spread across her face when she saw him standing on the doorstep and she motioned to him to come in and get closer, mouthing an "Hello".

Chuck answered with a silent smile, as he approached the bed gingerly, careful not to make any brusque noise. He sat down on the edge of the bed and then leaned over to kiss his wife. "How's the little Bass?" he murmured against her lips, looking down at a soundly sleeping Henry.

"He's great, Chuck. Fed, warm and asleep," she shifted a hand which rested on the light blue cashmere blanket the baby was wrapped up into and brought it to Chuck's cheek, stroking his impeccably shaved skin with her fingers. "I'm okay too, by the way," she then said, noticing that, in spite of her touch, his gaze was still fixed on Henry. "Thanks for asking."

Chuck, who was gently running his thumb over the newborn's forehead, reluctantly glanced up and giggled at the both amused and vaguely offended expression on his wife's face. "I'm sorry," he apologized. He reached for her hand on his face and, as he often did, he guided it to his lips to place a kiss on its back. "How are you?" he asked then, grabbing a curl which fell loosen on her shoulder and tucking it behind her ear. "How was your day?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "My mother came shortly after you left," she huffed, visibly bothered. "She refused to leave till an hour ago," she heaved a sigh. "She can be so oppressive."

Chuck, who couldn't say he disagreed, smirked. Still, knowing that Blair, in spite of her complaints, was actually glad to have her mother there, he decided that it was better not to give voice to his thoughts. "She's heading back to Paris in two days," he reminded her instead, putting an arm around her shoulders. He did it with a bit of hesitance; he was still moving very carefully around her, as he had done all the way through her pregnancy, always afraid to hurt her. Blair responded to his tentative gesture by gently squeezing his hand, a reassuring touch that allowed him to tighten his hold on her. "You can't blame her for being in love with this little one," his eyes went back on their son. "He's a Bass man; he's a charmer."

Blair stared at him, watching as he fixed Henry's blanket and exposed the silver monogram along the hem. His index finger traced the embroidered letters, following the shape of the H, the C, the N and eventually the B.

He was beaming. She couldn't remember a time he had smiled at her like that; his ways of showing emotions and affection were usually more discrete – if not cryptic. Yet this new kind of smile he reserved solely for Henry was completely open and genuine. It made her feel deeply proud. Blair realized that tears were pricking her eyes. She was always so exaggeratedly sensitive these days; hormones and happiness combined made sure she'd get moved by the simplest things, such as the utterly loving expression on her husband's face.

"Speaking of being helplessly in love with Henry," she started after she composed herself, trying to gain back his attention. "It's not even five. Why are you home, Bass?" she raised her eyebrows at him when he gazed back at her, as if she already knew the answer. "If I recall correctly, the last time you got back from work before dinner it was because you were sick."

Chuck let out a soft laugh. "Well, it's also what happened today somehow," he replied with a sigh. He bent his head, sinking his nose into her hair and inhaling her scent. "I was homesick; I missed you two too much."

Blair, still holding his hand, played with his fingers for a moment. She could tell it had been a long and difficult day for him and that he still was a bit nervous. "Do you want to hold him?" she asked after some seconds. "I think he missed you as well," she told him. "He's been unusually fussy today."

Chuck, who had closed his eyes, opened them again to give her an unsure look. "He seems to be so peaceful there," he objected, an undertone of tender concern in his still soft voice. "I don't want to wake him."

His wife shook her head. "You won't," she encouraged him. "It's been just half an hour since I fed him and he fell asleep, he won't wake up for a while. And he loves your arms," she reminded him, unable to repress a pinch of jealousy in her tone. "You're the only one who never fails to make him sleep."

Henry was a surprisingly easy going baby, but, as any other normal two weeks old newborn, there were times when he simply refused to close his eyes and give in to sleepiness. It was Chuck who always managed to soothe him when it happened. Blair used to say that it had to do with the fact that Henry felt completely safe in his father's hold. She felt the same around him, she never missed to add; protected and aware that nothing could get to her as long as she was with him. It was a small yet meaningful victory for Chuck. Although he usually got the sense that Blair was more conscious and more ready to be a parent than he was, in those moments he felt secure.

A shy smirk suddenly curled his lips. He removed his arm from her shoulders and turned to take off his shoes, getting ready to welcome Henry in his embrace. When he was comfortably settled with his back leaned against the stuffed headboard he nodded at Blair, letting her know that she could hand him the baby.

Henry didn't stir at all when his mother carefully placed him in the crook of his father's arm. His only reaction to the fact that he had been moved was a soft, asleep sound, which made both Chuck and Blair chortle.

"He's just like you," Blair commented, as Chuck adjusted the soft blanket again and kissed the top of Henry's head. "Not even cannon shots would wake him when he's sleeping."

Normally Chuck would have glared at her and, as touchy as he was, he would have frowned and proudly declared that it wasn't true. This time, though, he didn't glance up. Blair wasn't even sure he had heard her; he was now completely focused on their son, a look of absolute adoration and devotion on his face.

"Some peace at last," he whispered to the baby, breathing a long sigh of relief. He had spent the day looking forward to this moment and now that he was finally holding his Henry he felt like he could let anxiety go and allow himself to relax. He was fully ready for a quiet night alone with his family.

Chuck heard Blair snort. "I wouldn't get used to the peace if I were you," he looked up to see his wife staring back at him. He hadn't noticed she had gotten up, but apparently she was now standing halfway to the door.

He furrowed his eyebrows in a confused expression. "What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. "Where are you going?"

"Downstairs," she informed him. "I have things to do." He immediately assumed an annoyed air at her words and she understood he had already foreseen what she was about to tell him. "Lily and Serena are coming over for dinner. I need to double check on the menu with the chef." She bit her bottom lip, feeling a bit guilty about not having let him know sooner.

Chuck sighed. "Is it strictly necessary?" he grumbled, not hiding e certain note of peeve in his voice. "I was hoping we'd finally be alone tonight and you look tired," he pointed out.

He didn't want her to get exhausted over guests; taking care of Henry was hard enough, considering how little she let their baby nurse help her with the job. Plus, as egoistical as it sounded, he simply didn't want to share his son or Blair with anyone. All he wanted to do was have dinner with his wife and then curl up on the couch in front of the fireplace with her, keeping Henry safe in his embrace.

Blair shook her head. "I'm fine, Chuck," she stepped over the bed again and sat back on the edge next to him. "Lily hasn't seen Henry in days," she explained patiently, slowly running her hand along his forearm. She smiled gently; he had been so impatient to join her and Henry on the bed that he had completely forgotten to take off the jacket of his navy suit. "Not properly, at least. You know how crazy my mother got; we barely get to hold him when she's here, and we're his parents."

Chuck thought about it for a moment, pondering over her words. Blair actually had a point; whenever his step-mother had come to visit them, she had found Blair's parents there and Chuck knew that she had felt somehow excluded. She hadn't complained, it wasn't like her, but she had politely mentioned a few times that she would have liked to spend some more time with her nephew.

He didn't want to deprive her of that joy or make her think that she was any less important for the fact that she wasn't Henry's biological grandmother, Chuck wondered, forcing himself to leave selfishness and jealousy out of his reasoning. He was suddenly caught by a both sad and sweet sense of resignation and sighed again. "I suppose you're right," he admitted, lowering his eyes. "And it'd be impolite to cancel at this point."

"Exactly," Blair placed a light kiss on his cheek and reached out to stroke Henry's. When she pulled back her smile had become wider. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit," she said, squeezing Chuck's shoulder as she stood up again. She could have asked Dorota to make sure everything was perfectly organized for dinner, but she knew that Chuck secretly wanted some time with his son. "I'll be back in a while to check on you both and change into a better outfit before they arrive."

Chuck nodded silently. His stare followed her as she crossed the bedroom and reached the door. It wasn't until she quietly closed it behind her and disappeared from his sight that he looked down at the baby again. Realizing that Blair had made sure they had a moment of privacy, a thankful half smile bent his lips. She was always perfectly aware of what was indispensable to him.

"It's just us now, Henry," he murmured. He delicately grabbed Henry's small hand and, leaning in, he ducked his head to kiss it. He kept on holding it, his fingers lightly playing with his son's, and his voice was barely a whisper when he started talking about his day, desirous to fully enjoy that brief break from the rest of the world.

* * *

Three hours later Chuck, who had showered and changed into a new suit to receive their guests, was regretting those idyllic minutes of peace. He was tired and nervous.

The living room where they had gathered, waiting for dinner to be served, resonated with the sound of Serena's childish laugh and silvery, lively voice. She was overly excited about the fact that she was getting to hold Henry and showing her bright, uncontrolled enthusiasm by giggling and repeatedly clapping her hands.

Chuck was never particularly pleased with the thought of people holding Henry, but as long as his son had stayed on Lily's lap he had remained quite relaxed. His baby boy had seemed to be particularly content in his grandmother's hug. He had happily gurgled and cooed at her and Chuck, vigilant but calm, had observed the scene with a serene smile on his lips, his arm securely wrapped around his wife's shoulders.

That peaceful harmony had lasted until Blair had broken it, standing up to go check on the staff setting the table in the adjacent room. Chuck, being left alone to make sure their son was safe, had started to feel tense and his apprehension had grown worse when Serena had claimed that it was her turn to take Henry, shooting her brother a rather piqued and provocative look. She was well aware of his reluctance to trust her with the baby and she had complained about it to Blair several times. Chuck, who had promised his wife that he would have tried to be, quoting her, " _less paranoid_ ", had been forced to agree with an unsure nod.

He now stood nervously in front of the fireplace, pursed lips and deeply worried frown wrinkling his forehead, as he watched his stepmother trying to place the baby in her daughter's far less capable arms.

"Serena, darling," Lily sighed when Serena clapped her hands again. "Babies don't like loud noises. You need to be quiet."

Serena, never very interested in her mother's opinions, rolled her eyes at her. "Quiet is boring," she protested. "Henry likes fun people," she reached out, abruptly taking the baby from the older woman's hold. "Don't you, Hen?" she asked in a sing-song tone with a giggle, tickling Henry's stomach as she brought him to her lap. "I bet you love your auntie so much."

Henry, who had been awake for over thirty minutes and was pretty tired other than hungry, started to fuss as Serena clumsily settled him in her arms. He wasn't used to sudden movements and, in spite of her claims, he surely didn't seem to like his aunt in that moment.

Chuck took an instinctive step forward and glanced at the dining room door, hoping to see Blair coming back to put an end to that situation, but she was nowhere in sight. In a moment his eyes were back on Henry: Serena, completely deaf to Lily's attempts to correct her, wasn't supporting his head properly and the baby was clearly about to cry. That quick consideration was enough to make Chuck's good purpose not to interject crumble down and erase any trace of hesitation from his mind. He simply couldn't stand it.

He rapidly made his way back to the couch and sat down next to his fervent stepsister, stretching his arms towards the baby. "Come here, Henry. Come to daddy," he said quietly. Before Serena could start to protest, he had picked his son up and carefully nestled him in his protective embrace. He stroked his cheek, leaning in to hold his head close to Henry's and make sure the baby could see him. "Let's go find mom," Chuck kept on once he felt that the baby was calmer.

He darted an almost guilty glance at Lily as he stood up. "I'll be right back," he told her. She shook her head and smiled at him and Chuck, grateful, smiled back before turning. He started pacing to the dining room to go look for Blair.

Serena crossed her arms with an exasperated and offended expression. "You're impossible, Chuck!" she exclaimed, glaring at her brother's back. "I can never hold him for more than a minute when you're around – which is basically all the time!" she protested animatedly. "It's unfair!"

Chuck spun around to look at her. "That's because you're not careful enough," he answered brusquely. "My son isn't a doll, Serena. He was uncomfortable and, besides, he needs to be fed and put down to sleep."

Normally he wouldn't have spoken so harshly to Serena; their way of talking was always ironic and playful, but his reply had been purely instinctual. It had come out before he had been able to actually think of a kinder way to tell her the same thing.

He would have apologized later and made up to her during dinner, he told himself as he left the room, ignoring Serena's further complaints. All he cared about in that moment was that his son was safe and comfortable in his arms.

* * *

"How are you, Charles?" Chuck felt Lily's delicate hand resting on his arm and he turned to look at his step-mother. She had a calm expression; a bright yet discrete smile curving her lips and gentle eyes staring at him with genuine care and interest.

They hadn't had a few minutes alone after Henry's birth and Chuck knew she had been looking forward to this moment. In all honesty he had too and, for a second, he felt stupid and guilty about his hesitance earlier at the thought of having her there that night. He was glad they finally had the occasion to talk.

Blair had fed Henry before dinner and entrusted the baby nurse with the task of making him sleep, so that they could enjoy a pleasant and quiet meal. After eating, though, she hadn't been able to stop herself from going to check on the baby. Serena, still bitter at Chuck in spite of his apologies, had insisted to follow her best friend upstairs, leaving him and Lily at the table. Chuck had headed back to the living room to pour himself a drink and asked his step-mother to join him. They were now standing by the bar.

Chuck shyly lowered his gaze. "Exhausted," he sighed and the woman nodded sympathetically. "But as happy as I can be," he added right after, taking a sip of the scotch he was drinking to hide the tenderness showing on his face. "Gin?" he then offered with a smirk, well aware of her preferences.

"Of course," Lily laughed softly, noticing he had already reached for the bottle. "What else?"

Chuck poured the right amount of transparent liquor into a tulip shaped crystal glass and handed it to his step-mother. She thanked him and took a short sip, keeping her eyes on him. "So, how was your first day back at work?" she asked after in a casual yet thoughtful way. "You haven't said a word about it during dinner."

Chuck took another taste of his drink before replying. "I cleared off half of my afternoon schedule and came back home," he confessed, a hint of tension in his tone. "Honestly, I couldn't bear to stay away any longer."

Lily took a step closer, brushing his arm with her hand. "That's completely normal," she reassured him. "You just need some time to adjust. Soon you'll be back to your usual routine."

The words made Chuck frown. He didn't know if he wanted to. Oddly, he had never been less interested in work or, for the matter, anything that weren't Henry and Blair. He was so completely happy that the possibility of letting anything come between him and his family scared him. Every minute he didn't devote to them felt like wasted time. "I'm not sure," he replied cryptically.

Chuck, who was gazing at the floor, didn't see it, but the look Lily gave him was full affection. "I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you need to keep in mind that happiness is a mosaic of pieces," she told him, tilting her head to catch his fleeting gaze. "Some are more important than others and we know we couldn't live without them," she smiled when she finally met his eyes; they were dark and pensive, but she could tell that he was listening. "But it doesn't mean we should ignore all the rest."

Chuck placed the almost empty glass on the bar and stared at her for a couple of seconds. "Blair is such a great mother," he uttered slowly, his voice now lower and somewhat distant. "I'm amazed by her. She knows Henry so perfectly and everything comes easily to her."

There was a long pause and Lily got the impression that her step-son was suddenly lost in a tangle of thoughts he couldn't unravel. She had to stop herself from telling him that what he saw in Blair, her maternal attitude and instinctive consciousness when it came to Henry, was completely natural for most of new mothers. She understood why it was so surprising and difficult to understand for him. "And you find yourself wondering that it's not the same for you," she said instead, willing to bring him back to reality.

Chuck didn't say anything. He limited himself to nod, averting his eyes from hers again.

They had told him he could have felt left out by the unique bond between mother and child, but that wasn't his case. He was very involved in Henry's care and Blair had made sure from day one that he always had the chance to connect with his son. What scared him was the thought that what he had to offer, compared to what Blair had, wasn't enough; he was somehow worried that if he stayed away too long Henry would have forgotten him.

"Charles," Lily broke his dense silence, forcing him to look back at her. When he reluctantly did, she smiled at him once again. "It is true that mothers develop a more immediate instinct, at least generally," she chose the words very carefully, "but your son needs you as much as he needs Blair."

Chuck didn't look very convinced. "I just want to be good to him," he replied faintly in a choked murmur. "A good parent."

"And you are," she assured him promptly. "Maybe you still don't feel aware of it, but you already know Henry so well. Just look at what you did earlier with my absolutely careless daughter," she reminded him, chortling at the memory. "You knew what you had to do and you didn't think about it twice. And I'm sure Blair could come up many other examples of your ability to take care of your son."

A timid, slight smile showed on Chuck's lips. "She says I'm the only one who can always make him sleep," he said in a rather insecure tone, as if he was looking for a confirm. "Maybe it's true."

Still smiling at him, Lily nodded vigorously. "I'm sure it is," she took his hand in hers and, when he didn't pull back, she squeezed it. "Henry is very lucky to have you as his father and I'm unspeakably proud of you."

Chuck wanted to thank her for her delicacy and her patience with his enigmatic replies, but he wasn't sure how to. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, letting that simple gesture speak for the words he couldn't find. They soon started discussing Bass Industries' plans for the next trimester.

A couple of minutes later, as he watched Blair climbing down the stairs and coming towards him, radiant as she always was these days in spite of her tiredness, he told himself that he wasn't going to allow his insecurities to ruin the happiness he had found. He had to cherish it, even if sometimes it meant having to fight against his most irrational fears.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **[1]** Henry's monogram (HCNB) stands for Henry Charles Nathaniel Bass. If you've read some of my other fanfictions, you already know that in my head-canon Henry has two middle names: his father's and Nate's.

 **[2]** According to my view of the character, Chuck is surprised by motherhood and, to him, it feels exceptional. His experience tells him that a mother's love (or, better, a parent's love) isn't so natural and it can't be taken for granted, which is also why Lily approached the topic in such a tactful way.

 **[3]** English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

 **[4]** A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic.


	3. December 24th, 2014

_December 24th, 2014_

Blair woke up in the middle of the night to the sharp sound of Henry's cry coming from the baby monitor on the bedside table. She reluctantly opened her eyes and glanced at the alarm clock. It was 2:10 AM and her son, who had recently started to sleep through the night, had clearly decided to break his new regular pattern on Christmas Eve morning.

She glanced over her shoulder to see her soundly asleep, completely indifferent to the noise husband and sighed, well aware of the stressful day she had ahead of her. She took a mental note to complain to Chuck about the fact that his son had gotten this special talent for bad timing from him, first thing in the morning.

Pushing the duvet back, Blair gently freed herself from Chuck's tight hold. She sat up against the headboard and reached out to the baby monitor to turn it off, before rushing to get up. She put her deep red silk nightgown on and crossed the completely dark bedroom to the door, silently closing it behind her when she walked out, and headed to the nursery.

Their son's room was the closest to the master suite. Hanged on the mahogany door was a silver plaque displaying Henry's monogram; the composition of curvy letters was embossed under a stylized crown, which was an evident prelude to the nursery's theme: royalty. That shape was indeed recurrent all around the room, along with Henry's initials, which were embroidered, incised or painted everywhere. A light gray textile wallpaper, whose delicate damask motif gave a vintage, classy atmosphere to the space, covered the walls. Studded with the shimmering silver of tasteful Tiffany accessories, the large nursery looked regal and elegant; every piece of ivory white furniture was embellished with equally silver decorations and the fabrics – curtains, pillows and carpets – were an alternation of dark royal blue and light purple. Even now that it was only dimly illuminated by some of the nightlights on the walls, which were always left on to make sure Henry was never surrounded by pitch dark, the room gave Blair a deep sense of satisfaction and, entering, in spite of sleepiness and hurry, she couldn't help but smile.

She reached the bassinet – a lavish piece dressed with white Irish linen and a voluminous bow on the front – from where Henry was crying loudly. His cheeks were blushed from the effort of sobbing and damp with tears.

Blair promptly picked him up, settling him in her arms with his tiny head against her shoulder. "What's wrong, Hen?" she whispered, cradling him as she gently stroked his back. "Are you hungry?"

It was actually a rhetorical question, whose only purpose was to calm Henry with the melodious sound of her voice. She knew he needed to be fed, so she grabbed a cashmere blanket to keep him warm and sat down on the stuffed glider chair, placing a dark blue cushion behind her back.

Forty minutes later Henry was fully satisfied. His cheeks weren't red anymore; they were back to their natural pale color, perfectly dry and soft. He was sated, changed into a new diaper and comfortable. Much to his mother's dismay, though, he was wide awake.

Determined to make sure that Henry didn't lose his sleeping pattern and knowing that rocking him and lulling him was a mistake, Blair had settled him back into his bassinet and she was doing her best to stay quiet as she patiently waited for him to fall back asleep on his own.

Her plan, however, was miserably failing; all that she had accomplishedhad been making her son show off his freshly achieved skills of rolling over onto his back and laughing. Henry was clearly enjoying himself. Blair, on the other hand, was completely exhausted and quite resigned to the fact that getting a good night's sleep wasn't an option anymore, since she had given their baby nurse the Christmas week off.

A gentle knock coming from the other side of the room stopped her from mentally cursing that decision and she turned to see Chuck standing on the doorstep, a frown darkening his sleepy face.

"Is everything okay?" he asked as he as he quickly walked over to where she stood, next to the bassinet. His hoarse voice and unusually clumsy steps told her that he had probably just woken up and, not finding her in bed, he had gotten alarmed and hurried to come see if she and the baby were fine.

She nodded and smiled at him in a reassuring way. "Yes, of course," she told him in a whisper as he slid an arm around her waist. "Except for the fact that you gave your son the marvelous gift of bad timing." She rolled her eyes. "He doesn't want to sleep. He wants to roll and laugh instead."

Chuck's expression immediately softened with relief and, when he looked down at a joyful Henry, he chortled. "Well, you would too if you had just learnt how to do it," he pointed out, reaching out to tickle the baby's cashmere covered tummy with his free hand. In response, Henry laughed again and kicked his legs enthusiastically.

"You really are awake," Chuck commented with a smile on his lips.

"Chuck," Blair rebuked him, grabbing his arm and pulling it away from a now happily babbling Henry. "Don't play with him. He'll end up confusing night and day."

If his eyes hadn't been half open and puffy from sleepiness, the look he shot her would have been of pure annoyance. Blair, staring at his unintentionally comical expression, had to repress an amused giggle. "Go back to sleep, Bass," she lift herself up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Henry and I will be just fine."

Chuck shook his head. "No, _you_ go back to sleep," he replied, pulling her closer. "You'll have a busy day tomorrow."

He was referring to the fact that they were hosting the Christmas Eve party. Last Christmas Chuck and Blair had started the tradition of inviting their family to join them at their winter house (a chalet on the Austrian Alps that Chuck had purchased two years ago as an honeymoon gift to his bride) for the holidays, but this year they had changed the plans. Blair wasn't feeling like traveling just yet and both she and Chuck wanted Henry to spend his first Christmas at home.

This meant that all of their relatives and closest friends would have come for dinner, which was surely a source of extra stress for Blair's neurotic personality. Everything had to be impeccable; she never approved anything that was even just slightly different from how she wanted it.

"We both know you are incapable of relaxing and letting the staff do their job. You can't be sleep deprived."

Blair glanced down. There was something in the way he talked about her that never missed to make her feel utterly loved; even the things that everyone else considered as flaws, such as her exaggerated perfectionism, sounded like delightful qualities when told through his charmed, respectful words. They were always accompanied by a look of admiration and a smirk, the same expression she caught on his face when she looked up again and smiled at him.

"Fine," she heaved a resigned sigh. She knew her husband well enough to understand that he wasn't going to step back and thus there was no point in attempting to make him change his mid. He was always very careful to make sure she didn't get too tired and, plus, Blair had a feeling that he simply wanted to take the chance to spend some time with Henry. His schedule had been rather busy over the past two weeks and he hadn't had many moments alone with the baby; even just watching him as he waited for him to drift back to sleep would have made him happy at this point.

"But, please, don't talk to him too much," Blair kept on, trying to maintain a strict yet low tone as she instructed him, in spite of the tenderness she was feeling watching his smirk turning into a content, victorious smile. "And no cuddles. Don't spoil him, just wait for him to be asleep and then come back to bed."

"I'll do my best," was his laconic, not very promising answer. To keep her from replying, he bent his head and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

When he freed her from his firm embrace, Blair gently squeezed his arm and kissed his shoulder. She darted one last glance at Henry and grinned before turning to the door and walking out of the nursery. She knew she was leaving her sleepless and quite active son in the safest hands.

* * *

Hours later Chuck was woken by Blair's voice murmuring his name and her delicate fingers searching his face. In spite of her gentle ways, he gradually became aware of an unusual sensation of discomfort and disorientation; he was cold, his back and neck were hurting and his left arm felt completely numb. He let out a feeble moan, sluggishly raising the hand he could move and groping for Blair's.

She took it immediately and clasped it. "Chuck," she called him again, raising her tone just a little, as her fingers trailed up to his hair. "You need to wake up and let me take Henry."

Chuck slowly opened his eyes and they immediately focused on Blair, whose face was only an inch away from his. "Good morning," she said in a soft voice, a tender smile on her lips.

Behind her, Henry's room was lit by the first pale morning lights, coming from behind the rich blue, now opened curtains. He blinked a few times, becoming conscious of the source of his lack of comfort: he had clearly fallen asleep crouched on the nursery's glider chair, with Henry nestled in the crook of his arm and his legs stretched out on the ottoman. The last thing he remembered was sitting down there as he held the baby.

"What time is it?" Chuck asked in a drowsy, hoarse voice, as his wife took a still asleep Henry from his arms and settled him in hers. Watching her as she laid their son down back into his bassinet, he tilted his head on both sides to stretch his neck and scowled when he realized it was stiff.

Blair, who was fixing Henry's covers, glanced over her shoulder and shot him an amused look, as if she thought that the situation he found himself into was quite hilarious. "It's almost six, Chuck. You spent the night here," walking back to the glider chair, she informed him of the obvious fact that he hadn't slept in his warm and comfortable king-sized bed. "You could have least gotten a blanket for yourself," she pointed out, leaning over and taking his hand in hers again. "Your hands are ice-cold."

Chuck took a deep breath of irritation and rolled his eyes, as he moved his legs from the ottoman and tried to find a comfortable position. "It's not like I planned to sleep on an armchair, Blair," he answered, slightly harshly. Blair might have been entertained by the occurrence, but he wasn't at all; he felt very tired and he had backache. "I had just managed to make him sleep – "

"To cuddle him to sleep, you mean," she interrupted him, raising her eyebrows as she sat down on his knees and slid an arm around his velvet robe covered shoulders. "Which I told you not to do."

Chuck sighed nervously. " _To make him sleep_ ," he repeated, ignoring her objection. "And I wanted to make sure he wasn't going to wake again, so I sat down…"

"…and you fell asleep like a rock," Blair concluded the sentence for him. "I know, Chuck."

Chuck looked daggers at her for a moment, but then Blair's expression softened and, noticing her affectionate look, he glanced down and let her cup his cheek.

She pressed a kiss on his temple. "Go to our bedroom," she told him, her free hand running through his hair. "Henry will need his morning feeding soon and you," she paused and, smiling, she tapped her index finger on his jaw, making him smile back faintly, "you need a few of hours of decent rest in an actual bed."

It wasn't before he got to give her a good morning kiss that he decided to stand up and follow her advice. She was almost always right, he thought, aside from when she expected him not to spoil Henry as much as he couldn't help but doing.

* * *

Three hours of good sleep hadn't brought relief to Chuck's back and neck. When he got up again after breakfast, around half past nine, they were both still protesting against the discomfort he had put them through during the night. He trudged up to the stairs and, reminding himself that they needed to have an elevator installed as soon as possible, he slowly started to climb them down to the second floor, where he expected to find Blair completely absorbed by the preparations for Christmas Eve party.

The entire house had been beautifully embellished weeks ago, with crystal decorations, embroidered red velvet ribbons and rich garlands, but he was sure that Blair had still several things to take care of before she could finally consider herself satisfied.

Therefore, he wasn't surprised to see her in the living room, standing in front of the enormous, opulently decorated tree that had momentarily taken the place of the antique grand piano which usually occupied that spot in front of the tall, arched windows. Dorota and two housekeepers moved frantically around the pine, putting perfectly wrapped gifts under it. Each time a package was settled in its place, Blair canceled an entry from the list written on the clipboard she had in hand, her lips curving into a tiny, self-satisfied smirk.

Chuck, who had stopped halfway down the staircase to watch that amusing scene, didn't bother to announce himself. He silently stepped over to where she was standing and, when he got close enough, he laced his arms around her waist from behind, making her start and let out a gasp.

"There are so many gifts under that tree," he murmured against her neck before she could say anything or move, placing a light kiss under her ear. "I wonder which one is for me."

Blair promptly handed the clipboard to Dorota, temporarily assigning her the task to check the list, and then turned into his embrace to face him. "None of these is for you, Chuck," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Some are for our guests, but most of them are for Henry. Nate had something like _fifteen_ gifts delivered this morning," she emphasized her bothered words by rolling her eyes. "Including a giant stuffed giraffe I have no idea where to put. Or what our _three months old_ son is supposed to do with it, for the matter."

"Nathaniel simply enjoys being an uncle," Chuck chortled, slowly running his fingers up and down her forearm. "And who knows?" he smirked at her. "Maybe growing up Henry will end up loving the giant giraffe."

Blair shook her head. "This has gotten out of hand," she said, trying to speak in a serious tone. "You need to talk to him, he can't keep on showing up with a new present every day. We'll end up having to leave the house to make room for all the stuffed animals."

Chuck, who, contrary to his wife, was pretty entertained by his best friend's enthusiasm and his habit of bringing gifts to their son, shrugged. "It is true that he isn't so good with self-control," he conceded with a slight smile. Blair darted him a skeptical glance and he chuckled. "Okay, he isn't at all," he quickly added. "But we should have probably thought about it before adding ' _Nathaniel_ ' to Henry's names. There's not a thing that we can do to stop him now. He feels too important."

Blair rolled her eyes again before sighing resignedly. "I suppose this is the price to pay for such a beautiful name; ' _Henry Charles Nathaniel_ ' sounds so grand, so perfect."

"It is," Chuck agreed and leaned in to kiss her beaming lips.

It was then, as he bent his head to deepen the kiss, that he remembered the pain coming from his neck. He couldn't help but wince when they parted and his reaction didn't pass unnoticed by her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked immediately, a worried frown puckering her brow.

Chuck didn't answer right away. He knew that, if he had confessed his momentary situation of discomfort, Blair would have wanted to talk about what had happened during the night and he really wasn't looking forward to be lectured about how he wasn't supposed to spoil Henry. But denying evidence wasn't a good idea either, he thought, especially when his wife was already so busy with party planning; she tended to become rather dangerous under pressure and, if normally she couldn't stand things being kept from her, in this circumstance she wouldn't have forgiven his attempt to lie. He sighed, coming to the conclusion that honesty was, unfortunately, his best option.

"I have a stiff neck," he admitted, averting his eyes from hers; he wanted to avoid the I told you so stare she would have surely showed him. "And my back hurts."

"Well," Blair uttered, carefully releasing him from the grip of her arms. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before deciding to sleep on an armchair."

A scowl suddenly darkened Chuck's face and he glanced up to give her an offended look. A somewhat smug smile was curving her lips and he found it pretty offensive. "I don't want to discuss it," he let go of her waist and walked away from her, pacing to the couch. "Because I did absolutely nothing wrong," he declared proudly, as he cautiously and slowly sat down.

He immediately noticed the Moses basket settled right next to where he had took a seat and realized his son's presence. He grinned at the sight of a very much awake Henry smiling at him from the comfortable Dupioni silk nestle he was laid on. The baby still smiled indistinctively at everyone, but Chuck could have sworn that there was something different about the way he responded to his presence.

Blair, who had promptly followed him and was now standing in front of the couch with her arms crossed against her chest, took a long breath before clearing her throat to draw his attention. "You spoil him, Chuck," she told him when she didn't succeed, staring as he started to toy with Henry's tiny hands. He had been trying to teach him to bat them together for a few days now and, as in that moment, his attempts always made the baby chuckle.

Blair got carried away by the scene for a moment and she had to shake her head to remind herself that she was trying to reprimand him. "He has just begun to sleep through the night. He will lose the habit if you cradle and cuddle him to sleep every time he wakes up. It's not good for him or for you."

Chuck didn't glance up at her. "Mom is being mean to us, isn't she?" he spoke to Henry as he kept on bringing his hands together. "She doesn't want me to hold you when you can't sleep. How is it fair?" Henry gurgled in response and Chuck smirked. "My thoughts exactly," he leaned over and, in spite of the pain it caused him, he was more than happy to kiss his son's forehead. "Not fair at all."

There was nothing Blair could do at that point but smile; a wide, loving smile that, in spite of its brightness, still wasn't enough to express the warmth she sensed in her chest realizing how joyful they both looked. She could tell that Chuck felt much more secure around Henry now than he had during the first few weeks; there was a new serenity, a peaceful look on his face whenever she caught them together, that never missed to soften her strictness. All the rules and the recommendations she had read regarding the best way to raise a baby lost their meaning in front of the way Chuck was always full of affection for their son and incapable of containing his love.

Blair's silence convinced Chuck to look up at her and he smirked when he noticed her both resigned and placid expression. "Come here with us," he offered, reaching out for her to take his hand. "Take a break from your Christmas euphoria."

Blair took a playful moment of hesitation before indulging him, which made Chuck pout. "I'm in pain, remember?" he reminded her, pleading eyes and begging voice. "Be merciful, Blair."

Laughing at his dramatic statement, Blair finally grabbed his hand and let him pull her to sit down next to him and Henry. She carefully started rubbing his back, her hands moving gently up and down the velvet robe he was still wearing. Christmas Eve preparations were forgotten for the whole next hour, which Blair spent spoiling the two men she loved more than anything.

That night, though, Chuck would have made it clear in front of their family that, to him, showing love wasn't just about indulging; it was also – and according to him, especially – about grand gestures. Henry's first Christmas gift from his father turned out to be something so exaggerated but so perfectly matching the Bass style that no one got really surprised, not even Blair, who, after a brief moment of exasperation, welcomed the news with a proud and pretty pleased smile. Most of people would have said – and probably rightfully so – that Chuck lacked of any real sense of proportion, but purchasing a tower and renaming it after his son was what he called normality.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **[1]** I imagine Chuck turning really soft and indulgent around Henry. I don't think he can – or want to –be strict. We also know that he loves spoiling Blair and I can't imagine why he wouldn't do the same with Henry – actually, he'd probably spoil his son even more than he spoils his wife, grand gestures included!

 **[2]** Details in this chapter: Yes! The giraffe I mentioned in this chapter is the one we can spot in the living room of Chuck and Blair's townhouse during the flash-forward; I like to think it was Nate's gift and that it accompanied Henry all through his childhood. There is a description of Henry's nursery in this chapter. I must say I'm a bit obsessed with interior design and furniture, so I made a lot of researches to picture Chuck and Blair's son's room in my mind: if you are curious to know where the inspiration came from, check on _Gigi Brooks_ stuff. They surely have a thing for crowns!

 **[3]** English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

 **[4]** A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic. And, as usual, for correcting it.


	4. April 2nd, 2015

_April 2nd, 2015  
_

For the first six months of his lucky life, Henry Charles Nathaniel Bass had been as delightful as a baby could possibly be. There was nothing Chuck and Blair could complain about; aside from the fact that he was tremendously spoiled (which, much to Blair's dismay, had been inevitable and quite predictable), Henry was a joy. He had blessed his parents with a serene yet lively nature and an exceptional intelligence, reaching all of his milestones early and making their hearts swell with pride at every small – but enormous – conquest. He had been sleeping through the night since he was three months old, he knew how to smile and laugh, how to roll over and sit without support, he grasped most of the objects successfully and his first meeting with solid food – the best mashed potatoes the Basses' chef had ever cooked – had been positive. In other words he was, according to everyone, the perfect baby boy and every parent's dream.

Then, all of sudden, a week ago Henry had unexpectedly turned into a nightmare. He had become particularly irritable and unsettled; he wouldn't sleep easily and he refused to eat, which had worried Chuck and Blair terribly and convinced them to contact their pediatrician immediately.

Dr. Henderson's diagnosis had been quick and precise: Henry was perfectly fine, he was simply going through the painful but completely natural process of teething and, as he had explained to the extremely concerned couple of young parents, there was a little they could do about it, if not trying to ease they're baby distress and be prepared to face some restless nights.

Once reassured that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Henry's health, Blair had started to manage the situation in the same way used to deal with a family crisis; combing strength and readiness with her extraordinary caregiver qualities. It was just another milestone, she had told herself, a sign that her baby was growing strong and healthy, and her job was to keep him as comfortable and as happy as possible.

Chuck, on the other hand, wasn't prone to have the same stoicism. He normally couldn't bear to see or even just to hear his son crying (which usually ended with his wife complaining about the fact that he was pampering the baby), but being aware that Henry was in pain and that there wasn't much he could do about it was driving him crazy. If there was something Chuck couldn't stand, and something he wasn't used to, that was knowing that he was powerless.

Which was exactly how he felt in that moment, as he tried in vain to console a desperate Henry. It was half past midnight on a Thursday, he hadn't slept more than four hours per night in the past three days and he was feeling beaten other than completely hopeless. While his words and tender cuddles had always managed to soothe Henry, now they didn't seem to make any difference. His son's face was red and tear-streaked and Chuck was completely heartbroken in front of that sufferance and his inability to alleviate it.

Pacing around the room, Chuck held Henry tight against his chest, rubbing the baby's back as gently as he could. "It's okay, Henry," he tried to reassure him, although his own voice was tinged with fright. "You'll be fine, mom will be back soon."

He shoot a glance at the door, which Blair had left ajar when she had walked out of the nursery. They had let their baby nurse go more than two months ago and, as usual, they had dismissed the staff after dinner, which was why his wife had been forced to go get one of Henry's teething rings from the fridge, where they kept them to maintain them cool. The doctor had told them that cold usually helped to ease the pain, but Chuck felt like everything they had tried, from rubbing the baby's gums to giving him teething gel, had been quite useless. The relief those remedies brought was always temporary, and temporary, to Chuck, meant inutile; he was notoriously impatient and generally accustomed to solve problems quickly rather than to limit himself to band aid a situation.

Chuck kissed the top of Henry's dark haired head for the countless time, as he kept on walking around and cradling him. "You're safe, Henry," he murmured, "I'm right here with you."

His goal at this point wasn't even to make him sleep; he simply wanted him to calm down a bit and stop crying in such an inconsolable way. His heart ached with that excruciating sound; he felt it pounding in his chest at every sob, almost reaching his throat. Exhausted, he sat down on the rocking chair, hoping that the movement would have helped Henry to relax.

When Blair entered the nursery again, though, Henry was still screaming loudly. Chuck glanced up at her and frowned. "What took you so long?" he asked. His tone was something in between irritated and panicky and the question came out unusually brusque.

Blair, realizing how alarmed and upset he looked, sighed. His hair and night clothes were in complete disarray and his features were darkened by the stare of absolute despair on his face. He was clearly at a loss. "Just the time to climb three floors of stairs up and down," she replied, making sure her voice sounded serene enough to reassure him. She walked over to the chair where he sat with Henry in his arms and leaned in, giving her son the cool teething ring she had brought with her. "Stay calm," she then told Chuck, placing a reassuring hand on his tensed shoulder and rubbing it. "He'll never stop crying if he feels that you're scared."

"He's crying because he's in pain," Chuck, never keen to admit fear, retorted sharply, helping Henry to hold the ring. "And we're not doing anything."

Blair, shaking her head, gently took the baby from her husband's lap. "We're doing everything we can," she said, as she settled Henry in her arms and tried to make him bite the toy. The baby, not happy with her attempts, clung to her, hiding his face against her shoulder.

Chuck ran an hand through his uncharacteristically messy hair and sighed, before standing up. "Which obviously isn't helping," he affirmed, his voice low and shaky. Blair took his place on the rocking chair and watched as he stopped in front of her, rubbing his jaw tensely and keeping his eyes on the floor. He took a deep breath. "I'm calling Dr. Henderson," he stated after a second, glancing up. His tone had suddenly turned cold and firm and his gaze, now immobile, was determined. "I won't have my son screaming from pain any longer. This needs to be fixed _now_."

An half smile rose to Blair's lips at the expression he had used, as if this was just another situation he could impose his power on. "Your son is teething, Chuck," she reminded him, a patient look on her face. "You can't ' _fix it_ '. No one can stop teeth from growing, not even the best pediatrician. Who, by the way, shouldn't be disturbed in the middle of the night for nothing."

Chuck's frown became more evident, his lips pressed into a thin line. "He's paid handsomely to be available at whatever hour," he objected stubbornly, ignoring everything else Blair had said. "I'll send him a car and he'll come over to check on Henry. There must be something wrong."

Blair heaved a long sigh. "There isn't. Can't you see that he's calming down?" she tried to make him notice how Henry's sobs had softened. He was still sniffing and his cheeks were still flushed, but, biting the cool teething ring, he seemed to feel better. "I promise he's just fine."

Chuck bit his bottom lip nervously and gazed at his son, weighing up Blair's words. After a couple of seconds, he shook his head vigorously. "I'm calling him," he repeated obstinately.

Before Blair could add anything to make him change his mind, he had turned his back on her and rushed out of the nursery, leaving her to look at him resignedly as he disappeared into the hall.

* * *

Less than an hour later, a thorough examination by Dr. Henderson – repeated twice, at Chuck's strict insistence – had confirmed that Henry was completely fine. When Chuck left the nursery to walk the doctor to the door, the baby, finally calm, was actually starting to fall asleep.

"As I said, there is nothing to worry about, Mr. Bass," Dr. Henderson cautiously repeated to a stern looking Chuck, as they reached the bottom of the stairs and proceeded to cross the foyer. "Your son's teeth are pushing through his gums, that's why it's a painful process," he explained again, "but it should get better soon, the first teeth are usually the worst."

Chuck, stopping in front of the door, stared at the man, an undiscernible expression on his face. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asked in a low, flat voice.

His question sounded somewhat threatening and the doctor, who was smart enough to realize that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary worried parent, but with a worried parent who had the means to destroy his career, didn't hesitate to show a bright, reassuring smile. "I am, sir. Your Henry is perfectly healthy," he confirmed once more. "Feel free to call me if you have any further doubts, though," he added right after, noticing that his interlocutor's cold and intimidating look hadn't become any softer.

Chuck, impassive, nodded wordlessly. He wrote a generous check to the doctor to thank him for his time and, once the man was gone, he locked the front door before heading upstairs.

Blair was waiting for him, standing in the middle of the third floor landing. She watched in silence as he made his way up the grand staircase, his gaze fixed on the plush carpet runner as, unaware of her presence, he slowly climbed the steps towards her.

"Henry is asleep," she told him when he got close enough to hear her barely higher than a whisper voice, knowing that the information would have helped him to relax. She had thought of joking about his unreasonable decision of demanding their son's pediatrician to come over for something so small and irrelevant, but the way his face was now letting show through the fear he had forced himself to contain till then had made her change her mind.

When he stopped on the last step to look up at her, a tired, tender smile had tilted up the corners of her lips and her expression was nothing but warm and sympathetic.

Her words and attitude, though, didn't seem to placate his tension. Chuck didn't reply; he inhaled a deep sigh instead, as, lowering his gaze, he covered the small distance between them and placed himself in front of her.

"Is he okay?" he asked after a moment. The question escaped his lips in a trembling, almost suffocated breath.

Blair, determined to reassure him, laced her arms tight around his waist. She felt him abandoning himself to her embrace, as if his body had been weakened by the strong emotions that were always so hard for him to deal with.

"He is," she told him, as she rested her head against his chest. His heart was still beating faster than normal. "You heard Dr. Henderson," she looked up at him and he finally allowed her to meet his insecure eyes. "I promise you Henry is safe."

Again, Chuck remained silent. Blair let go of his waist and reached out to grab his hand, weaving their fingers together. She squeezed it, her grip on his palm firm and soothing. "You can't protect him from everything, Chuck," she said, putting his thoughts into words.

She knew that, other than being overprotective, Chuck couldn't accept the fact that there were things he had no control over and that, therefore, he couldn't shelter Henry from every pain. He might understand it rationally, but he still couldn't forgive himself for being powerless – he normally couldn't in any situation and much less when it came to his son. It frightened him in a deep and irrepressible way.

Chuck stared back at her, a glimpse of surprise in his dark eyes, and Blair smiled. "I know it scares you. It scares me too," she admitted, guiding her free hand to his cheek to cup it. She stroked his jaw lightly. "But we can't prevent some things from happening; they're an inevitable part of life. Our job is to do all we can to help Henry through them."

He glanced down again, pursing his lips as he did every time he was nervous. After a few seconds of silence, he raised his gaze back on her. "I have to take care of him," he uttered slowly.

Blair nodded. "You do," she replied, happy to catch a hint of relief on his face. He was finally starting to collect the rationality he had lacked of over the last couple of hours and letting go the sense of alarm she had seen him struggling with. "You take care of him and me so well," she welcomed the slight smile appeared on his lips with heartwarming words. "You'd do anything for us, even if it means waking our doctor in the middle of the night," she teased him, knowing that now she could.

Chuck chortled. "I'll admit that I might have overreacted a little," he conceded, smirking. Blair raised her eyebrows at his statement and he chuckled again. "Maybe not just a little. But I can assure you that he's been rewarded more than properly."

"Right," Blair rolled her eyes at his now visibly smug expression. "No one can say no to _The Great Chuck Bass_ and his billions."

Chuck put an arm around her shoulders and, holding her tight to himself, he kissed her temple. "They'd better not to," he affirmed, starting to guide her down the hall towards their bedroom.

He might not be able to protect his family from every danger, but he was always going to do everything in his power to make sure they were as safe and as happy as he could make them.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **[1]** I've always pictured Blair as the one who manages to keep calm during a crisis (I thought about the way she used to take care of Serena – and Chuck, of course). She's a natural caregiver and possibly a very good "nurse", I don't see her freaking out. Now, Chuck is usually rational himself, but I have a feeling his reasonableness and his ability to control fear crumble down when it comes to Henry. In my mind he's overprotective and a bit (mmh, maybe not just a bit) paranoid.

 **[2]** Again, my experience with babies is very limited and I probably wasn't accurate describing this. I made researches about teething and read parents discussing it online, so all I wrote comes from there. I apologize about possible inexactitudes and I hope you can forgive me.

 **[3]** English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

 **[4]** A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic.


	5. July 7th, 2015

_July 7th, 2015_

To the outside world, Chuck Bass was the picture of coldness and detachment. Emotions never seemed to touch him; his dark, sharp eyes were always obscured by a veil of indifferent boredom and his lips hardly ever curved into a sincere smile, something different from the arrogant, self-satisfied smirk he notoriously faced life with. He was famous for having no qualms. People would have described him – whether with admiration or fear – as a merciless, intimidating man, and he surely would have welcomed such a portrayal of himself with barely contained satisfaction and pride.

Though, behind the privacy of the walls of his townhouse, where he lived with his wife and son, he was a very different person. Genuine smiles and loving glances often showed on his face, revealing his most tender side and the happiness his heart was full of. There, in that place he liked to think of as his castle, he wasn't _The Great Chuck Bass_ and he wasn't the threatening Mr. Bass: he was Chuck, sometimes Charles and, ever since nine months ago, he was daddy.

As a daddy, the usually rigid, controlled man had even learnt that he could sit on the carpet of his son's newly arranged and furnished playroom without cringing at the thought of crumpling the pastel blue trousers of his fine cotton summer suit.

And this is exactly how his wife found him, when she got back from work on that particularly hot July evening. The scene, although it might have looked shocking to many, didn't come as a surprise to her. Entering home, Blair had headed directly to Henry's playroom on the fourth floor, knowing that she would have found both him and Chuck there, as she had every day of the last two weeks, ever since the room had been completed. Playing on that carpet was a new habit they had soon fallen into.

She stood on the doorstep observing them. A wide grin spread across her face when she saw her husband placing a soft block over a tower of similar pieces and Henry joyfully clapping his hands.

Chuck smirked satisfied. "Do you like building?"

Henry squealed happily in response. Then, all of sudden, he decided that Chuck's still perfectly knotted tie was far more interesting than the cubes the man had been entertaining him with. He leaned forward and grasped it, pulling its end and laughing. Chuck let him enjoy with the silk strip, chortling, which made Blair giggle as well.

"Who knew you could be so careless with your ties," she commented to announce herself, as she entered the room. Chuck immediately looked up and smiled back at her. "I thought no one but you could even get close to them, not to mention touch them," she kept on, sitting down on the crème sofa and placing her briefcase next to her. Her husband's obsession with his clothes – and especially accessories – was something that still amused her, other than good material for teasing him.

Chuck shrugged, taking Henry in his arms and settling him on his lap, so that he could toy with the light lilac tie more easily. "He likes them," he simply stated, as if that was a reason enough to allow his son to ruin the delicate, precious fabric he usually cherished so cautiously. "How was work?" he asked her then, changing the topic.

Blair had gone back to work a month ago, but she had only gotten back to her full schedule over the last fifteen day. With the September New York fashion week getting close she was busier than usual and she tended to get home later than Chuck, which was an uncommon circumstance that she deeply despised, since she didn't get the chance to take care of her family the way she liked to. By the time she arrived, Henry had already eaten and was almost ready for his bedtime routine – a bath, a bottle of milk and then sleep.

"It's been a long day," she replied with a sigh, not hiding a gloomy note in her tone.

Chuck, being aware that she was having an hard time getting used to stay away from their son that long, nodded, his lips curving into an thoughtful smile. "Henry was perfectly taken care of," he said, letting her know that he understood what was bothering her. "He had already eaten his dinner with his nanny when I got back. Right, Henry?" he glanced down at the baby again and gently turned him so that he could look in his mother's direction. "Tell mom that you were a good boy while she was busy with work," he pointed at Blair and Henry, following his gesture, beamed at her, clumsily stretching his arm towards her to indicate her as well.

"I'm sure he was," Blair stood up and stepped over to where her husband and son were sitting, determined to take Henry and get him ready for bed. Usually it was something Chuck liked to do, but she had spent such a little time with the baby today that she was feeling like taking his place for once. "I wonder when he'll actually say something," she added then in a blasé voice, letting the words hang, as she sat down next to her husband.

It was something she liked to discuss a lot lately, impatient to know which was going to be Henry's first word. Much to Blair's dismay, everyone was convinced that their son was going to call his father before her. According to their family, it was inevitable; Henry adored Chuck, in a way that, although she would have never admitted it, made Blair extremely jealous. No one managed to have his attention when Chuck was around. Whenever her husband entered a room, Henry demanded to be picked up, even when she was already holding him; he'd outstretch his chubby arms towards his equally enamored father and babble at him cheerily, before clinging to his neck. And at that point there was no way to convince him to leave that protective embrace he felt so safe into.

In spite of these signs, though, Blair kept on proudly affirming that there was no way her son wasn't going to say " _mom_ " first, whenever she got the chance.

Chuck never replied; he preferred to keep his thoughts and expectations to himself. He had an inexplicable feeling that Henry was actually going to disappoint his mother and say " _dad_ " first, but he had never voiced this sensation. He wouldn't even have dared to call it a hope. Even if he felt his heart swelling with bliss at the mere thought, he still wouldn't let himself believe that he was going to have the priceless privilege to hear Henry calling him before anyone else. Somehow, he didn't feel like he deserved such a joy.

At the same time, he knew better than to contradict Blair in these cases. He was following the same strategy he had used during the first months of Henry's life, which his wife had spent stubbornly denying the fact that their son was quite noticeably the spitting image of his father – except for the shape of his eyes, which he had inherited from her.

"He'll say something when he's ready, Blair," Chuck cut her off, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He leaned over, capturing her lips in a furtive, stolen kiss to distract her.

Henry, never happy to be ignored by his parents, started jabbering loudly, using those incoherent sounds to draw their gazes. Blair interrupted the kiss pulling away from Chuck's mouth and grinned at their son. "Are you jealous, little Bass?" she laughed softly, reaching out to pick him from her husband's arms. "You're just like your father," she darted a playful glance at Chuck, who frowned. "He's incapable of sharing mom's attention."

Chuck's solemn reply to that joke (" _Bass men do not share, Blair_ ") got ignored. Henry had stolen all of his mother's attention, bringing his tiny hands to her face and giggling as she nestled him in a hug. She turned her head and kissed the petite palm cupping and patting her cheek, squeezing the baby in her embrace. "Let's go prepare your bath," she uttered softly as Henry wrapped his arms around her neck. "Mom will tuck you in tonight."

Chuck, knowing that she was longing for some time with their son, didn't object. He stood up, ready to help Blair do the same. He reached out to let her take his hand and, grasping it, she got up from the floor holding the baby.

Once Henry realized that his playing time was over, he started to fuss and whimper in protest, gesturing towards the other side of the big room that, even though maintaining the same regal style as the nursery, they had turned into a toys wonderland, a perfect place for their son to play surrounded by colorful paintings and family pictures.

"No, Hen," Blair shook her head, her eyes staring at the spot the baby was pointing at. "No giraffe. It's time for bed." Standing while holding on to the enormous stuffed animal that Nate had purchased for him last Christmas had become one of Henry's favorite games. He still couldn't walk, but they could tell that he was progressively getting close to that milestone and, being prepared, they had promptly made sure that each of the five floors of their townhouse had been properly child-proofed.

"Come on, Blair, let him be," Chuck interjected, an evident smirk on his lips. "Five minutes won't make any difference. He's getting more confident standing up, we need to encourage him."

Blair huffed. "Spare me the excuses you give yourself to spoil him, Bass," she said strictly, turning to face him again. He had a falsely innocent, puzzled expression on his face that made her roll her eyes. "You just don't like to hear him whine. You turn soft. Which is something that, I can assure you, he already understands perfectly well."

Chuck, who was trying to smooth the now crumpled fabric of the suit without success, stopped rubbing his hands on the trousers and wrinkled his forehead. "I'm _not_ soft," he retorted. "I'm not soft at all," he repeated more stubbornly when he realized that his wife wasn't paying attention to his firm statements. She was already pacing to the door. "You forget who you're talking to," he kept on protesting, following her out of the room and into the hallway.

Blair's only comment was an amused, ironic laugh. She headed to the elevator they had recently gotten installed without turning to look back at him; soon both she and a still fussing Henry had disappeared behind the gilded automatic doors. Chuck stood still in the middle of the corridor for a couple seconds, before shaking his head and making his way to the stairs instead. He was going to defend his dignity over dinner, he told himself, an offended frown still darkening his expression.

* * *

An hour later, which Chuck had spent trying to keep himself busy with work, his desire to proudly prove his lack of softness had ended up fading, replaced by an indefinite sense of melancholy.

In spite of his good intentions not to intrude Blair and Henry's time together, he was struggling to keep himself at a distance. He was actually starting to feel a bit jealous. Preparing Henry for bed and then watching him falling asleep was the one moment of the day he always looked forward to with more enthusiasm. It was a ritual that gave him a sense of immense serenity and that he cherished; he always did his best to get home in time for it and he couldn't help but feeling terribly guilty whenever he didn't manage.

He missed it and he had a feeling that Henry missed it too; just like his mother, the baby was a creature of habit and, knowing it, they always tried to respect the routines they had so carefully gotten him used to.

Chuck checked on his watch and sighed. It was almost half past eight. A slight, unconscious smirk curled his lips at the thought that reminding Blair that dinner was about to be served was a perfect excuse to join her and Henry. He put aside the notes about tomorrow's meetings that he had been going over and slid his chair back, standing up. He came out of his home office and crossed the hallway in the opposite direction to where he knew his family was.

In a bunch of seconds he was entering the nursery. He closed the mahogany door behind him to keep the bright sunset light which was gilding the corridor from dissolving the semi-darkness of the room and took a couple of steps towards his wife.

Blair, who was sitting on the rocking chair in front of the four-poster crib Henry was already settled down into, closed the book she had been reading to the baby and eyed Chuck for a second. She then heaved a long, resigned sigh. "He was waiting for you," she said in a low tone, indicating the crib with a nod. "He's obstinately refusing to give in to sleepiness."

Chuck glanced down, not able to repress a small, timid smile as he approached the crib. He was well aware of the fond, affectionate expression showing on his face now, but this time he didn't do anything to hide it. "I would have come sooner, I just thought you wanted some time alone with him," he confessed, looking down at Henry, who was now babbling softly.

His son's big, dark eyes were still open, but Chuck could tell that he was about to fall asleep from the way he was holding on to the light sheet his mother had tucked him under. Even if only half-awake, Henry smiled back at him and Chuck reached out stroking his soft cheek.

Blair stood up and came close to her husband. She slid an arm around his waist, squeezing his hip. "Oh, but we knew daddy would have showed up eventually, didn't we, Henry?" Although she spoke to Henry, she guided her free hand to Chuck's face, stroking his jaw, a simple gesture to tell him that she didn't mind the intrusion. "Because we both know daddy can't stay away from you. He's too jealous and he _does_ turn soft around you, even if he's too proud to admit it."

There was something of a smile in Chuck's eyes and Blair thought she had caught a certain hint of acceptance in the long, cryptic look her he shot her, but she never got to hear him saying that she was right. Her son took that satisfaction away from her, choosing that very moment to bless them with a precious gift; the random syllables he had been jabbering for a couple of months finally came together to form a word full of clear meaning – literal and not.

"Da-da," Henry called his father for the very first time through a sleepy, placid smile that said a lot about how loved and secure he felt there, under his parents' dazed gazes. They stood speechless in front of him, listening as he repeated the word again and again, willing to let them know that he was very serious about what he wanted – which was clearly Chuck to pick him up. "Dada," he pronounced again, sitting up and stretching his arms towards him. "Dada-dada."

Chuck, his lips still parted in surprise, turned his head slightly to look at Blair, eyes wide open and already glistening with tears. "He said ' _dad_ '," he uttered in a shaky, amazed murmur that sounded more like a question than a statement, as if he was looking for a confirm that he had heard right.

"I think he did," Blair replied weakly. She had an indecipherable expression on her face, but Chuck didn't notice the disappointment she was trying to hide. He could only focus on the sweet sound of that syllable repeated twice.

He moved a step forward closer to the crib, freeing himself from Blair's hold and leaning over. _Dad_ , the amazing word escaping his son's lips so effortlessly now, was such a foreign, blurry term to Chuck; he had used it only a few times in his life – Bart had always been "father" to him – and never with the certainty that the person he had called for would have answered.

But Henry was never going to say it in vain, he told himself, picking him up. He would have always answered him, reached out to him and offered him his support – a hug or a comforting chat, a paternal pat on his back or a sincere advice. "That's me, Henry. I'm here, I'm your dada," he whispered to his son. He placed a kiss on the top of his dark haired head. "Dada loves you so much."

Next to them, Blair wiped a moved tear away from her eye. The scene she was witnessing was more powerful than the natural, inevitable disenchantment she had felt realizing that Henry hadn't called her first. It had warmed her saddened heart almost immediately. Chuck's voice, even if broken by the emotion she could see blatantly on his stunned face, was so joyful to manage to shake her and force her to take the step that separated her from him.

When he looked back at her, beaming, a bright, instinctive smile curved her lips; a single tear of pure happiness was streaming down his face as well, slow and as beautiful as his unconcealed delight. She reached out and rubbed it away from his cheek. "I knew in my heart he was going to say dad before mom," she told him, admitting it both to herself and to him, her free arm clinging tight to his waist once again. She moved the hand still cupping Chuck's face to Henry's head and ruffled his thick hair. "He's been a daddy's boy from day one."

Chuck, who didn't seem to have the words to reply, bent his head and kissed her in a way that didn't have the greed and possessiveness his lips always longed for hers with. It was a gentle, delicate kiss; a kiss that spoke to her about devotion and gratitude – for the unexpected life she had granted him, for believing that he could be a person worthy and ready to be called dad.

The deep, almost exclusive relationship Henry and Chuck shared was a fascinating truth that she would have had to deal with all her life long, Blair accepted yet again with a sigh when they parted. Now and then, unavoidably, she would have denied it and given in to jealousy, but most of the times the special bond between her son and her husband would have made her feel proud and, most of all, thankful for having had the chance to build a family with such a wonderful, loving man.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **[1]** Most of babies say 'mom' first, I know. I didn't! I said 'dad', and my mother still likes to complain about it. Anyways, in my head-canon, Chuck and Henry have this kind of really close and even exclusive relationship and, according to this idea, it only made sense that Henry's first was going to be 'dad'.

 **[2]** Both Chuck and Blair are jealous people and yes, I do imagine Blair being a bit jealous – as well as Chuck, who eventually can't renounce to the rituals he built with his son. I hope this didn't offend anyone; it is, after all, just a point of view on two flawed characters.

 **[3]** English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

 **[4]** A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic.


	6. September 21st, 2015

_September 21st, 2015_

"Our son is officially one year and one day old," Blair uttered slowly when the hour hand of her watch finally marked midnight. She had stared at it for a whole minute with pensive eyes, sipping the champagne her husband had poured for her in a crystal flute.

The traces of Henry's glorious birthday party were all around them, vivid reminders of the delightful night they had spent: golden and purple balloons still spotted the hardwood floor and the French Aubusson carpet, a rich cascading arrangement of deep purple hydrangeas framed the fireplace and some brand new toys – the ones Chuck had insisted to show Henry right after they had unwrapped all the gifts their family and close friends had brought – had been temporarily set aside in a corner.

Normally Blair would have cringed in front of the uncharacteristic chaos shrouding her always perfectly tidy formal living room, but tonight she was too relaxed and too satisfied to mind.

Chuck had convinced her to dismiss the staff before they could proceed to reorganize the disorder. After they had said goodbye to everyone come to celebrate their son's first birthday, he had insisted that he wanted a quiet moment alone with her before turning in and she had gladly indulged his desire. He had disappeared into the dining room and came back with _Dom Pérignon_ and two portions of the Sylvia Weinstock birthday cake which had been served after dinner, ready to enjoy her exclusive company and a delicious combination of champagne and dessert.

The two empty china plates now rested on the coffee table in front of them, together with the bottle he had opened. The chandelier's lights were all off and the room was almost completely dark, except for the soft, gilded glow coming from the marble fireplace; it was oddly cold for a late September night and Blair had lighted it before curling up on the couch with her husband.

Chuck smirked, making a small mauve bowtie run slowly through his fingers. Henry had worn it for the party and everyone had gushed over how handsome he looked and how much, dressed in a miniature custom made suit, he resembled his father. "One year, five hours and three minutes old, to be exact," he clarified, tracing delicate circles up and down Blair's arm with his free hand. "Henry was born at 7:57 PM."

Blair, who had settled herself in between his legs with her back leaned against him, stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder and glared at him. "I'm well aware, Chuck," she replied annoyed. "I'm the one gave birth to your son. Remember?"

He chortled, pressing a kiss on her temple and then one on the side of her neck. "Perfectly," he stated, as she relaxed again in his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. "I think Henry really enjoyed his birthday," he said then, thinking back on the day that had just ended. Their son had spent it spoiled by everyone and surrounded by love. After all, Henry's birthday had been just a faithful portrayal of what his everyday life had been during that first, incredible year, and this awareness had left Chuck with an heartwarming feeling in his chest. "You planned such a perfect night for him."

"It's been a great party," Blair agreed, her voice sounding pleased. Everything had been flawless, from the dinner to the gifts, and she was sure that, considering how much he liked being the center of attention, Henry had loved being the praised and adored birthday boy.

"Impeccable as usual," Chuck reached out to his flute on the coffee table and clinked it together with his wife's in a discrete toast to the effort she had put into making the birthday so special. He brought the slender glass to his lips, finishing what was left of the sparking, pale liquid. "It's just a pity he won't remember it," he added after.

He had pronounced the words through a melancholic sigh. Blair, always attentive to these quick and slight changes in his demeanor, turned her head to look at him. She smiled softly at his suddenly pensive expression, understanding the unspoken, vague gloom now clouding his face.

Chuck didn't celebrate his birthday. He didn't have any joyful recollections of it; Blair knew that for most of his life he had lived it with a deep sense of guilt and that, over the years, it had instead become a reminder of how he had been abandoned.

Which was why she had been secretly observing him all day, smiling, proud and touched, at his efforts to make sure Henry enjoyed, for what he could understand, every instant of his special day. It wasn't hard for her to get why the thought that their son would have soon forgotten it saddened him.

She gently grabbed his empty flute and placed it back on the coffee table along with hers. "There will be more birthdays," she reassured him, her hand now free to cup his cheek and caress his skin in an intimate, soothing gesture, "and beautiful memories to build."

Chuck's eyes locked with hers and, after a second, he nodded, letting a thin smile rise to lips as well. Relieved to see his gaze softening with renewed serenity, she leaned towards him and kissed him quickly, before resting her head on his torso. As she rubbed her face against his dress shirt, she realized that the soft silk still smelled like Henry, who had spent a good part of the night Chuck's arms. It was the smell of joy, she decided, peacefully closing her eyes.

They were quiet for a while, both lost in their thoughts. "I can't believe it's been an year already," Blair voiced after that minute of silence, her words trailing off with a sigh.

Chuck didn't reply, his hand toying distractedly with the strands falling loosen on Blair's chest as he reflected on what she had said. It seemed like only yesterday that he was taking his baby boy in his arms for the first time, and yet just a few hours ago he had helped him to blow out his first birthday candle. In between there had been an infinite number of precious moments. Some of them had been exceptional – the long sequence of first times that marked the life of a baby – and some simple, familiar. Chuck had witnessed them all with pride and emotion, conscious of their unique importance, and he jealously treasured each memory. As Blair had said, there would have been new ones, more candles to blow and more pictures to take, but that year would have always held a special place in his heart. Although he had come to realize that parenting was an endless learning process, those months had taught him that could be a good father.

"It went by so fast," he conceded. Sometimes it all still felt so incredible that he had to take a moment to breathe Henry in and, inhaling his scent, make sure that the life he was living was actually real; a life spent raising an healthy and happy child that had his features and Blair's doe eyes, and that he loved more than anything in the world.

Chuck wrapped his arms tight around Blair's waist and sank his face into the crook of her neck.

She cupped his hands laced together on her lap with hers. "How does it make you feel?" she asked in a low voice. Her fingers, playing with his, found the bowtie he was still holding squeezed in his grip and she touched the fabric lightly, a tender smile curving her lips.

"Complete." The word, whispered against her skin, slipped away from Chuck's mouth immediate and spontaneous, before he had the time to formulate a deeper thought. Blair turned to look at him again and when he met her intense stare he shyly smiled back. "Like there is nothing that could make my life happier than it is right now," he explained better.

Blair laughed softly. "I thought you were going to say old," she joked, moving slightly in his arms to get more comfortable. Still, when she glanced up on him, guiding her hand across his chest in a long, unhurried caress, she gave him a look that made it clear that she understood what he meant. She could feel his happiness, as powerfully as she had always been able to perceive all of his concealed emotions, stronger and more vivid then her own. But this time she didn't have to rely on her empathy; the bliss he had just told her about was vibrant in his expression, so bright an pure that it was unmistakable.

So she nodded, letting him know that she felt the same way. Chuck simply smiled down at her, holding her tighter in his embrace. Nothing else needed to be said; it was all written in their eyes and in the quiet, warm silence that shrouded the room after.

Life had given Chuck all he had always wanted and more than he had ever dared to expect. Upstairs, his greatest joy slept peacefully, unaware of fear and sufferance, and that, to him, meant everything; only an year had passed since he had become a father, but Henry had already found a way to make him whole in spite of all of his missing pieces.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **[1]** We reached the end of this journey! I hope you enjoyed it. This last piece is pretty short, but I think it's a right conclusion. Months ago, when I wrote it, I didn't feel I needed to add more to portray the sense of completeness Chuck is talking about. When he says " _complete_ ", he actually means it: in my head-canon, Henry is an only child. I know this is a quite unpopular opinion in the fandom, but I thought it was only fair to tell you. I see both Chuck and Blair being perfectly fulfilled at this point. I hope this didn't ruin your reading experience! It is, after all, just my view. You are completely free to interpret this completeness in a less literal way and imagine as many children as you want.

 **[2]** Details in the chapter: Sylvia Weinstock is the pastry chef who made Blair and Louis' wedding cake (she had brief cameo in 5X09 - and also in 1X17! She was invited to Bart and Lily's wedding). I googled her and, as I expected, she's the best, so I figure Chuck and Blair would choose her for their son's first birthday cake!

 **[3]** English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

 **[4]** A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic. It's been a pleasure.


End file.
